A Morning Meeting

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Midtown
Offices of Wolfram & Hart
May 26, 2005, 10:30am

Beth looks around the elegant office lobby uneasily, sidestepping a trio in business suits (two men, one woman) hurrying past her toward the elevator at the rear, as Brianna leads her toward the security desk. "Hey, Alan," she says cheerfully.

"Morning, Ms. Walden," says the uniformed young man behind the desk with a pleasant smile. "Signing in a guest?"

"Yeah. It's on B Clearance. Emma wants to meet her." Brianna says it casually enough, but Alan's eyebrows go up and he looks at Beth with a shade more respect.

"Very good. Could you please sign your name here?" He hands Beth a pen, and adds "And just fill in by invitation under Purpose of Visit."

Comments

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"Brianna," calls a voice from near the elevator.

Beth looks up from her hasty signature to see a woman in a tailored navy-blue suit, dark hair drawn back smoothly, approaching them with a warm smile.

"And you must be Beth. Hi. I'm glad you came."

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"Beth Lehrer," says Brianna by way of introduction, "Emma Baldwin." She's smiling too -- beaming might be a better word. "We work for Emma, me and Erica. It's down to her that we were there the other night."

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Emma takes Beth's faltering hand and shakes it firmly. "I've only got about twenty minutes right now, but they're all yours. Come on up to my office?"

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* * * * *

By the time Beth is ensconced in one of the soft leather armchairs in Emma's office, with her hands wrapped around a cup of coffee she isn't sure she wants, she's gotten up the courage to speak.

"Um ..."

Sort of.

"... can I ask you something?"

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"Please do." Emma smiles, pouring her own coffee.

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"Then, um ..."

She looks down, and asks the coffee: "Why did you want to meet me?"

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A short exchange of glances between Emma and Brianna, and Emma's smile turns into something a little more serious. "I'm glad you asked me that. By now you'll have probably worked out that my girls were on the scene looking for you in particular. I'd say it was just good luck that they got there when you needed an assist, but I want to be completely honest with you, and the truth's a little more complicated than that."

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Nothing about this is reassuring in the slightest.

Beth raises her cup, and lowers it again without drinking.

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"The truth," and Emma's voice is very sober now, "is that we knew you were likely to be attacked. We just weren't sure when. It wasn't so much a coincidental meeting as showing up in time."

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"You knew --"

Beth stares at her, and at Brianna, in bewilderment.

"How could you know? I didn't know -- why didn't you warn me?"

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"They tried to warn me, before it happened to me last year," Brianna says. "I thought they were crazy."

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"...how did you know?" she repeats, in a smaller voice.

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"Part of my job," says Emma, " -- one of my personal projects, in fact -- is finding young women like you. You're pretty rare, you know." Her smile quirks with amusement. "Not too many college girls could break a guy's nose with a history textbook. If there hadn't been so many of them, or if you'd had just a little training, I think my team could've stood back and watched you wipe the floor with them."

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"Like me --" Beth says blankly. "I don't understand."

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Another swift glance passes between Emma and Brianna. "I'm sorry," Emma says. "I thought you knew."

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"Thought I knew what?"

She hears her own voice scaling up into shrillness, and shuts her mouth hard.

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Emma's voice stays low and calm. "It'll take some time to explain. Can you stay another ... oh, another half-hour? And I'll answer any questions you have."

Beth hesitates a long moment before nodding.

"All right." That's quiet; the next words are a little brisker. "Brianna, could you tell Scott to hold my eleven o'clock? And then come on back in here. Beth might have questions for you too."

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* * * * *
She ends up staying closer to another two hours. Twice more coffee is brought in; the second time, around noon, there's a plate of sandwiches along with it.

Mostly she just listens, first in unease, then in mixed unease and fascination. Never -- and this strikes her as strange later, but it's undeniable -- never in disbelief. Not even when the conversation touches on the subject of vampires, about which both Brianna and Emma herself are utterly matter-of-fact.

That's clearly what the men who attacked her were: vampires. And the reason they attacked her ("which they probably didn't even know themselves, not consciously,") was that vampires tend to be attracted to what she is.

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"The ancient name for a woman with your abilities was zhirel," Emma says, stirring her coffee. "Zhirelin used to be very rare, maybe four or five to a generation. There's a lot more of you lately."

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"My abilities?"

Beth's still holding half a sandwich (ciabatta with smoked turkey, baby spinach, sun-dried tomatoes and herb mayonnaise), but she's long since forgotten it.

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A nod. "You're stronger than ordinary people. Stronger, faster, more agile -- you can recover faster from injuries that would disable, say, me. Your joints will stay flexible further into your old age. You've got a heightened instinct for danger. You're not Superman, but it isn't an exaggeration to say that you're superhuman."

Emma pauses there.

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Beth doesn't say anything, but glances across to Brianna, who nods a silent confirmation.

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"Now, there's a lot we don't know," Emma continues. "We don't know where these abilities come from -- it doesn't seem to be genetic; sisters and mothers of zhirelin are almost always perfectly normal themselves. We don't know why the abilities only show up in women. We don't know why some zhirelin manifest at puberty and some not for years after. We don't have any explanation for the connection between zhirelin and vampires; you've got about the same level of physical strength, and you can usually sense each other in some way, but if that means anything, we have no idea what. There's been all kinds of superstitions about you over the centuries, but most of them don't hold water."

Another pause, and she adds more soberly: "Speaking of superstitions."

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"...yes?" Uneasy.

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"You want to watch out for a group that calls themselves the Watchers' Council," says Emma. "They might be calling themselves the New Watchers' Council, whatever. I think there's a new faction in charge of them now. Nothing's changed."